


Anniversary

by trixie_b



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: 1979, 50th anniversary prompt but with one number changed, A bit (lot) sentimental, And a lot of sighing, Canon compliant re time and place, Fluff and Angst, Froger Week 2019, Gen, M rating because I am a nervous nelly, M/M, No smut takes place but historical smut is discussed, RPF, Set in the world of Dawn of Aquarius, and swearing, there are tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 06:55:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21352084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trixie_b/pseuds/trixie_b
Summary: It is Thursday 26th April, 1979. Queen is on tour in Japan. Freddie and Roger were once lovers, but sometimes, things just don't work out. Still, the memories remain.
Relationships: Freddie Mercury & Brian May, Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor, Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor, Roger Taylor & Brian May
Comments: 32
Kudos: 52
Collections: Froger!Week 2019





	Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dawn of Aquarius](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18372263) by [nastally](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nastally/pseuds/nastally). 

> This fic is set in the world of nastally's Dawn of Aquarius. If you have improbably stumbled across this and haven't read it then stop now and do so. Not because you won't be able to follow this, but because you shouldn't be wasting your time here when you could be reading her magnificent Froger epic.
> 
> I am Australian and I suspect many Australian idioms have crept it. We usually call an elevator a lift. for example. 
> 
> I do not often write fanfic. The last time was when Buffy was still on air (Spuffy forever), nor do I generally read RPF (I find it a bit squicky and generally unconvincing). nastally's story is so entrancing though, that I wanted to dwell a while in her world. To thank her. And to encourage her to keep going: only 22 chapters or so left! I have neither her talent for imagery, setting, characterisation or dialogue, nor the will to work hard at developing it. It seems I have quite an intrusive narratorial voice. Consider this an inadequate but heartfelt homage.
> 
> As DoA is still a Dickensian work-in-progress, I don't know how Froger will break up (not a spoiler. It's in the tags), so left that very vague here.
> 
> Please note, nastally's Roger would never monoolgue like this, but what can you do, hey?

26th April 1979.

Late morning to early afternoon: the bullet train between Tokyo and Kobe.

Evening: Kobe.

Freddie had been acting strangely all day. Roger had first noticed it when they were leaving the hotel: his cheery ‘Mornin’, Freddie’ had barely elicited a grunt in response. Roger had put that down to a hangover or Freddie still being upset about the disaster his voice had been last night. It wasn’t until they were settled on the speeding train to Kobe that Roger had started to think that Freddie wasn’t just upset in general, but was very much pissed off at him, specifically.

When Roger had suggested a game of Scrabble, Freddie had had shaken his head ‘No’ without so much as looking up. Then, when Roger had headed to the train’s toilet, he’d passed Freddie in the corridor and Freddie had actually turned his back on him. Roger had no idea what was going on and had spent the rest of the journey wondering if he was imagining things. All doubts had been dismissed, though, when they sat down to dinner.

The restaurant was just down the street from their hotel and a table had been booked for the band and their entourage. Freddie had seated himself quickly; Roger had headed to the empty chair next to Freddie, as he often did, and as he went to sit, he had patted a ‘Hello’ on Fred’s shoulder. Freddie visibly flinched at his touch and then stood up without a word and moved to seat at the other end of the table.

‘What the fuck?’ Roger thought, reeling from what felt like a punch to his gut. ‘What the actual fuck?’ He spent the rest of the meal with his head down, hardly touching the food in front of him, while the noise from the rest of the table had continued uninterrupted around him.

‘Right,’ said John, rubbing his hands together as he stood up from the table. ‘Back to the hotel bar for a little drinkie or two?’

The rest of the table enthusiastically agreed with this suggestion, but as they left the room, Freddie’s words cut through the noise and stopped them in their tracks.

‘Actually, darlings, I think I’m going to turn in for the night. Got to rest the money makers after last night’s debacle,’ he stage-whispered in dramatic fashion.

‘Are you sure?’ John queried. ‘Not even one little drinkie?’

‘’Quite sure, thank you dear.’

‘Oh, right, then.’ Paul Prenter’s voice had come from near the front of the crowd. ‘Looks like an early night for me, too.’

Freddie’s voice shot back with a determined tone. ‘No, Paul, no need for that. You go to the bar. I’d…’ and here had had paused and taken a large breath, ‘I’d like to be alone.’

The whole group stopped suddenly and stared at Freddie, confused to a man.

‘Yeah, sure thing Garbo,’ Brian laughed.

‘No, Brian, I mean it. I’d like to be alone and would thank you all very much if you would just get on and let me.’ And with that said, he swept his scarf over one shoulder and stalked off ahead of the others.

Roger was bringing up the rear of the group, lost in his own thoughts, still largely of the ‘What the fuck?’ variety, when he noticed that Brian had stopped and was waiting for him. As he drew level, he was grabbed by the arm and pulled off to the side, so that their conversation wouldn’t be overheard by the others.

‘What the hell’s going on, Roger?’ Brian half-whispered, urgently.

‘Going on with what?’ Roger replied, although he was fairly certain that he knew exactly what Brian was talking about.

‘Freddie? What the hell is going on with Freddie? He wants to be alone? He hates being alone. You know that.’

‘Yeah, alright. Keep it down. How should I know what’s ‘going on’ with him?’ Roger made little quotation marks with his fingers. A lesser man than Brian might have taken this as a hint that Roger was not in the mood for this conversation.

‘Well, he’s clearly angry with you about something,’ Brian continued undeterred. He fixed Roger with an accusatory stare. ‘What did you do?’

‘Me? I didn’t fucking do anything, Brian.’ he paused. ‘But, yeah, you noticed that he’s pissed off with me as well, hey? Well, at least I’m not imagining it. Do you think anyone else noticed?’ Brian had always been annoyingly perceptive. Perhaps Freddie’s ire had passed everyone else by.

‘Anyone else? Rog, he might as well have been wearing a flashing neon sign on his head.’ Brian ticked of his observations off on his fingers.

‘He kept glaring at you on the train when you weren’t looking.’ Finger. ‘He refused a game of Scrabble when you suggested it.’ Finger added. ‘He got up and moved when you sat down next to him.’ Third finger. ‘He was bitching about you to everyone at dinner.’ Fourth finger. Roger frowned. He hadn’t known that. ‘He downed many drinks over dinner, none of them little,’ Brian added his thumb to the total. ‘And,’ Brian added, throwing his hands in the air as he realised that he had used all his digit options, ‘he wants to be alone.’

Roger sighed. ‘Well, I don’t know, Brian. I have no fucking idea what’s wrong with him.’

‘Huh.’ Brian stopped and thought. ‘What usually upsets him like this?’

‘Oh Christ, I dunno. His voice was shitty last night? But that’s hardly my fault, is it?

‘No, I suppose not.’ Brian did not sound entirely convinced of Roger’s innocence. ‘Oh, I know. Trouble with Joe?’

‘Could be. Always a distinct possibility. But, again, nothing to do with me,’ Roger countered.

They stood for a moment in silence, unable to think of anything else. Freddie was not known for being secretive about anything that annoyed, angered or even mildly irritated him. This behaviour was very much out of character.

‘Well, anyway,’ Brian broke the silence. ‘I’m worried about him, Roger. You need to go and find out what’s wrong.’

‘Me? No thank you. It’s me he’s pissed off at. You go if you’re so worried.’

‘He won’t tell me. It has to be you; you’re the one who’s done something to upset him. You need to be the one to fix it.’

‘For fuck’s sake, Brian. I have not done anything to him,’ Roger replied angrily.

‘Please?’ Brian looked pleadingly at him. ‘Please.’

‘Aaargh. Alright. Anything to stop you giving me the puppy dog eyes. I’ll try to get him talk to me.’

Brian ran his hands through his hair. His relief was palpable. ‘Thank you.’

Roger pinned him with a disapproving look. ‘You are a fucking coward, Brian May.’

‘In this situation? You bet I am.’ Brian looked momentarily downcast, but then gave a sudden smile. ‘But just think how pissed off Prenter will be if Freddie lets you in and not him.’ He waggled his eyebrows in delight at the thought.

Roger laughed. ‘That is your most persuasive argument yet. Well, go on. You go to the bar. Tell the others … Oh, I don’t know. You think of something.’

‘Thank you so much, Roger. I really am worried about him.’ And with that Brian walked off, quickly covering the distance to the hotel door.

‘Bloody hell,’ thought Roger. ‘I bet this is going to involve talking about our feelings. I hate talking about my feelings.’

Roger’s intent, buoyed by the thought of really getting under Prenter’s skin, carried him along the street and through the hotel and then spectacularly deserted him as soon as he was confronted with the door to Freddie’s suite. He put his ear up to the painted wood but couldn’t hear anything coming from the other side.

‘Probably asleep. Shouldn’t disturb him,’ he thought. But then a vision of Brian’s pleading face sprung up before him. He reluctantly knocked at the door.

‘Go away, Paul. I’m fine. I told you I want to be alone.’ Roger could feel Freddie’s annoyance through the door.

‘It’s not Paul, Fred. It’s me, Roger.’

Silence.

Perhaps he had been too quiet.

‘I said, it’s not Paul. It’s me …’

Freddie’s reply cut him off. ‘I heard you the first time. What do you want?’

‘Well, obviously, I want you to let me in so that I can talk to you.’

There was a lengthy pause and then …

‘Well, I don’t want to talk to you.’

‘Bloody hell, Freddie. Don’t give me that ‘I want to be alone’ crap. Let me in so that I can TALK TO YOU!’

‘NO!’ came the shouted reply, matching Roger’s volume.

‘For fuck’s sake, Fred, let me in.’ He waited. ‘Freddie!’ ‘FREDDIE!’

No reply.

Roger gritted his teeth and continued. ‘’Frederick,’ (Christ, he never called Freddie that) I am not waiting out here in the corridor for 3 hours while you sulk. We are not fucking children. NOW OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!’

A moment, then with a sigh that was audible even through the door, he heard the chain rattle and the lock click on its other side.

‘Fine. Come in if you must. I’ve unlocked it.’

When the door didn’t open Roger grabbed the knob and turned it, cursing under his breath. As it closed behind him, he saw Freddie, standing as far away as possible while still being in the same room. Roger stopped and looked around. Freddie’s suite had clearly suffered at the hands of its occupant, pillows and cushion were strewn throughout. Roger noted the large glass on the table and the partially empty vodka bottle next to it. Freddie had clearly been crying, his red-rimmed eyes and still wet cheeks testament to that, but he was doing this best to give an impression of uncaring nonchalance, with his feet planted firmly apart and his fists on his hips.

‘And what did you need to talk to me about so urgently?’ Freddie’s tone was witheringly sarcastic on the word urgently and he was giving Roger the look he normally reserved for record company executives.

Roger was suddenly dumbstruck. He’d been so busy cursing Brian and chuckling about Prenter on the way to the hotel that he hadn’t given any thought to what he might say.

‘Ah,’ he began hesitantly, running his fingers through his hair. ‘Ah, yeah. Well,’ he paused for a breath and, suddenly inspired, continued, ‘Brian is worried about you.’

Freddie stared at him with even greater icy contempt. Roger felt his balls begin to shrivel.

‘Brian? Brian is worried about me?’ The volume was increasing with each word. ‘Well, if Brian is the one worried about me then WHY ARE YOU HERE?’

Roger was taken aback by the vitriol in Freddie’s voice. ‘Uh, he’s a coward?’

Freddie started, surprised by Roger’s words. He continued in a tone of sweetest, biting reasonableness. ‘You can thank Brian’ (the name seemed to come out underlined and in italics) ‘for his concern and tell him that it’s nice to know that someone cares.’ Roger suspected that those last words were aimed squarely at him.

‘Oh, bloody hell, Freddie. Alright. I was worried too. Okay? You’re obviously very angry with me about something. So, tell, me WHAT THE FUCK HAVE I DONE?’ Roger had given up on being reasonable.

At these words, Freddie turned away from him. From the way his shoulders shook Roger strongly suspected that Freddie was crying again. He felt deeply ashamed of shouting at Freddie like that.

‘Please, Fred,’ he added, quietly now. ‘Please just tell me what I’ve done.’

Freddie was quiet for a moment. He rubbed his hands across his face, shook his head and turned to face Roger across the room.

‘Very well then, my dear, I shall tell you. What day is it today?’ His eyebrows went up with the pitch of his question.

This was not what Roger had been expecting to hear.

‘What? What day is it? I don’t know. Uh, Thursday?’ he ventured a guess.

‘Not what day of the week. What is today’s date?’ Roger thought Freddie sounded unreasonably exasperated.

‘The date? The date? Freddie, I hardly know what month it is when we’re on tour, let alone what day of the month it is.’

Freddie harrumphed in response.

‘Look, I clearly do not know the date. So, just tell me.’ Roger’s own frustration with the conversation was becoming evident.

Freddie fixed him with a superior look. ‘It is ….’ He paused for effect, ‘It is …. The 26th of April.’

Roger was completely lost at this revelation. ‘The 26th of … What’s that got to do with anything? What does it mean?’

‘It means … It is an anniversary. Today is a tenth anniversary.’ Freddie’s face had taken on an encouraging aspect, as though was willing Roger to give the right answer.

‘Tenth anniversary?’ Roger searched his memory. ‘Tenth anniversary of what?’ That would mean that whatever ‘it’ was, had happened on this day in 1969. He groped at the first thing that sprang into his head.

‘Er, the tenth anniversary of the moon landing?’ He couldn’t quite think why his forgetting that would make Freddie so angry, but it was his best, well, only, guess.

Freddie looked incredulous. ‘No, Roger, you fucking idiot. It is not the fucking tenth anniversary of the fucking moon landing. For fuck’s sake.’

Roger was lost for words. He raised his hands to his head and looked beseechingly across the room.

Freddie sighed. This time it wasn’t a sigh of frustration or annoyance, but of sadness and resignation. He continued in a quiet voice.

‘Today, Roger, is the 26th of April. It is the tenth anniversary of the day that you threw all caution and common sense to the wind and kissed me for the first time.’ Freddie’s eyes glinted with new tears, his voice cracking at the end of the sentence.

Roger felt all the air leave his body, along with any feelings of frustration or anger, leaving only a deep regret at his thoughtless forgetfulness.

‘Oh, Freddie. Oh, god. Oh, I am so sorry. I didn’t realise.’ He moved quickly across the room, opening his arms to gather Freddie in, to stop his tears.

‘No!’ Freddie snapped, putting his hands up as a barrier. ‘Don’t touch me. Not now.’

Roger stopped dead in his tracks. Christ. Fred was right. He was an absolute idiot. Why hadn’t he remembered? The 26th of April 1969. It had actually been ten years. He sank down onto the bed behind him.

‘Ten years.’ He looked up at Freddie, who was still crying silently. ‘Oh, Freddie, don’t cry. You don’t need to cry. I’m just a fucking idiot. You know that. I’m not worth crying over. Really.’ He smiled cautiously at Freddie.

Freddie returned a small, somewhat melancholy smile and rubbed his eyes. ‘Yes, you are an idiot. And no, I suppose it isn’t worth crying over.’

Roger realised in that moment that Freddie hadn’t really been angry with him at all. He had just been sad, deeply, deeply sad.

‘But ten years? Jesus, Freddie, it seems like yesterday.’

‘I know,’ said Freddie sitting down on the bed next to him. ‘But it also feels like forever as well.’

‘It does at that. Huh, we weren’t even in a band together. That just seems wrong.’

Freddie looked at him with an arched eyebrow. ‘Not for lack of trying on my behalf, darling.’

Roger laughed. ‘Yeah, we did notice that.’

‘And?’

‘And, what?’

‘And, I was completely right, of course.’

‘Yes, you were completely right.’

Freddie waved his hands in his characteristic way. ‘I generally am.’

Roger hoped that the tears were behind them now. He lay back on the bed with his hands behind his head. ‘You were still a Bulsara.’

Freddie lay back next to him. ‘And you still had your natural hair colour.’

Roger laughed. ‘Oi, watch it. Christ, we were so young. And so innocent. Naïve, really.’

Freddie agreed, wistfully. ‘That we were.’

They both lay there in silence for a few moments, casting their minds back to those heady, crazy days.

Roger rolled onto his side to look at Freddie, grinning.

‘If it’s the anniversary of our first kiss today ...’

‘It is,’ Freddie interjected firmly.

‘Okay. Then, as it IS the anniversary of our first kiss, it’ll be the tenth anniversary of a few other firsts pretty soon as well.’

Freddie stared at the ceiling, momentarily lost for words.

‘Freddie Mercury, I do believe you are blushing.’

Freddie’s hands flew to his face and he pulled his lip over his top teeth, an oh-so-familiar gesture that went straight to Roger’s heart. Then he turned to face Roger, removing his hands as he looked at him with an imperious gaze.

‘I am Freddie Mercury. I am a sophisticated man of the world. A legend. A world class fuck monster. I do not blush.’

Roger nodded. ‘Ah. Course not, Fred. As if. I was merely referring to a few firsts for myself. First time I kissed a man, swiftly followed by first time I touched a man’s dick. Fairly soon followed by the first time I jerked a man off and vice versa. And then pretty quickly followed by the first time I had my dick sucked by a man and blew a man myself. And not too long after that, first time I fucked a man and took his virginity. I achieved a lot in a very short period of time. ‘

‘And the first time you were fucked by a man, too, who took your virginity as well,’ Freddie added, not wanting his own achievements to remain unnumbered.

‘And, let us not forget, I also invented lube,’ Roger boasted proudly.

‘Ah, I hate to break it to you, my love, but I don’t think you actually did. Remind me to tell you about the Crisco Disco one day.’

Silence descended again, but Freddie soon rolled onto his back and returned his gaze to the ceiling.

He spoke quietly. Shyly. Nervously.

‘Do you … do you ever regret it, Roger? Do you ever wish it, us, had never happened?’

‘Ah’, thought Roger, ‘so this was what it was really about.’ He knew that Freddie hated talking about his feelings as much as Roger did, probably even more. It must have been costing him a lot to ask that question.

‘Freddie, look at me. Look at me.’ The words were gentle but firm.

‘I can’t, Roggie. I just can’t.’ His lip was over his teeth again, his words barely audible.

Roger sighed. ‘Okay. Just listen to me then. I do not now, never have, or ever will regret one minute of us, of anything about us. Not matter what happened then, or what came after.

All those firsts were amazing, Freddie, mind-blowing. The sex was incredible. But, more than any of that, the most amazing first was that it was the first time I truly loved someone, was in love with someone, man or woman. And how could I ever regret that? Being with you, being loved by you, was the most precious gift I was ever given.’ Roger could feel tears beginning to prick at his own eyes. ‘Still is. You made me so happy. So very, very happy.’

Roger’s words gave Freddie the courage he needed to roll back, so they were face-to-face again. ‘I was magnificent.’

Roger smiled. ‘Still are.’

‘The sex was pretty incredible though, wasn’t it, darling? Especially for a pair of virgins who had no idea what they were doing? Do … do you ever think about them? Remember them? All those firsts?’

Roger lifted his hand and caressed Freddie’s cheek.

‘Didn’t we agree not to dwell on the past? That nothing good could come of it? To keep moving forward.’

‘I suppose we did.’ Freddie sounded regretful, moving his head back from Roger’s touch. But Roger only moved his hand to Freddie’s hair and began to stroke it.

‘Of course I think about it. Remember it.

I almost kissed you in that room you were sharing with … what was his name? I have no idea. Doesn’t matter. I was about to kiss you when whatshisname walked in and interrupted us. I couldn’t fucking believe it. It had taken me ages to get up the courage and then, bam, put the brakes on. By the time we got to the markets I was absolutely dying. I don’t think I have ever been so desperate to kiss someone in my life. It was like there was some sort of force between us, like gravity was pulling us together. When we finally got into the stall, I couldn’t think about anything else. Couldn’t even see anything else. I think I may have been blinded by desire. And there we were, alone. At last. I was nervous about it, so I kissed you gently at first and your lips …. God, your lips. They were so soft, so very soft. And then, all I could do was kiss you more and more and it was as though I would never be able to stop kissing you. I had never felt that way about kissing anyone. Never.

I moved you up against the wall of the stall and I held your hands back over the head because I wanted you to know that you were mine, and that, in that moment, I owned you, body and soul.’ Roger’s breath was quickening.

‘Goodness,’ said Freddie, quite breathless himself. ‘You do remember. You really do.’ He felt himself moving into Roger’s hand as it stroked his hair.

‘Oh, I’ve just started. The door didn’t lock from the inside, did it? But that didn’t matter at all. As I pressed up against you, I started to move my hands over your body, wanting to feel every little bit of you. To touch every inch of you. I could feel you pressed against me and we started to rock our hips back and forth and I felt you grow hard against my leg. You were wearing very thin trousers.’

Fred laughed, ‘I was so embarrassed. You laughed at me. But I don’t remember you being quite as blasé about the door as that. And then, I made you stop because I was getting a little too carried away and was quite sure that if you actually touched my cock then and there, I would have come all over everything and quite ruined our stock.’

Roger smiled. ‘So, yes. I remember. I remember every second of those firsts.’

Roger stopped stroking Freddie’s hair. Freddie gave a little moan of disappointment. Roger dropped his hand down to Fred’s and held it gently, running his thumb along the inside of Freddie’s wrist. They were so close now that their foreheads were touching.

Roger spoke quietly. ‘Happy anniversary, Freddie. I love you very much.’

Freddie smiled. ‘Happy anniversary, Roger. I love you always.’

The moment hung between them, alive with promise and possibility. The idea of kissing Freddie here and now had formed at the edge of Roger’s mind. Could he? Should he? What would it mean? But before he could decide Freddie let go of his hand and moved his head away, clearing his throat before speaking.

‘Friends first, Roger. Friends first.’

Roger nodded, knowing that Freddie was right. That was always at stake. ‘Friends first, Freddie.’

He sat up slowly, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

‘Right. I could do with a drink. You coming?’ His thumb gestured to the door as he stood.

‘Might as well,’ Freddie replied. ‘I always did hate drinking alone.’ He reached his arms up and Roger pulled him to his feet. He held Freddie in his arms for a moment. ‘No regrets. Never.’ He let Freddie go and watched as his best friend moved to the mirror near the door and exclaimed in horror at his reflection.

‘Oh my god. My hair is a disaster. I can’t believe you were going to let me go downstairs looking like this.’ He grabbed a hairbrush and dragged it through his hair until it met with his satisfaction. ‘There, perfect,’ he gave a little bow to Roger.

‘As always.’ Roger returned the bow.

The two of them moved toward the door, Freddie grabbing his cigarettes and keys as they walked. As they entered the corridor, Roger crooked his elbow at Freddie.

‘Mr Mercury?’ he invited.

‘Why thank you, Mr Taylor. How gallant.’ Freddie hooked his arm through Roger’s. They had just started walking again when Roger suddenly stopped.

‘Shit!’

‘What? What’s wrong?’

‘What the hell am I going to tell Brian? He really was worried about you.’

Freddie looked pensive for a moment and then, with a wide grin on his face declaimed.

‘If Mr Brian May is too much of a coward to come and find out what’s wrong for himself, then he doesn’t deserve to know. Let him suffer!’

‘Oo, yes. Brian absolutely hates not knowing things. I look forward to not telling him.’

They recommenced their journey and as they walked Freddie chortled.

‘The moon landing. Really, darling? The moon landing?

Roger groaned. ‘Have a heart, Fred. It was the only thing that came to mind.’

‘I should tell Brian that you thought today was the anniversary of the moon landing. He’d be horrified, darling. He’d go pale. His hair might even fall out with the drama of it all.’ Freddie’s eyes twinkled at the thought.

‘Don’t you dare. Christ, can you imagine the lecture I’d get?’ They had reached the elevator by now. ‘But, given that it is ten years since we got together, then it must be the tenth anniversary of the moon landing very soon. He’s going to be beside himself with excitement.’

As the lift door opened, the two men stepped in, speculating on exactly how Brian would celebrate the moon landing and what fresh hell awaited them when he did. The past was consigned to those corners of their minds where they held the memories of what they had once had, and what could never be.

Until the next time.

**Author's Note:**

> So many notes. Feel free to completely skip this.
> 
> Armed only with a pencil, paper and steely determination I went through the early chapters of DoA and came up with a timeline. According to my calculations, they first kissed on 26th April, 1969. If that's wrong, I don't want to know. (I hope it's right.)
> 
> Thanks to queenlive.ca (an amazing resource of Queen's concerts) we know that Queen played in Tokyo on 25th April, 1979 and Kobe on 27th April. Freddie's voice was pretty much completely shot on the 25th, even stopping them from playing 'Love of my Life.'
> 
> They often travelled by train in Japan: Brian's book 'Queen in 3D' has photos of this. 
> 
> Freddie loved Scrabble and Queen played a lot of it on tour. There is a great clip on youtube where Roger and Brian reminisce about their games. Knacker lacquer!
> 
> Paul is Paul Prenter, Queen's daily manager and villain of Bohemian Rhapsody. Roger and Brian clearly did/do not like Paul in real life, so I thought they would love to piss him off here. I do not subscribe to the Prenter was evil theory, he was just a flawed man who made some bad mistakes. He died the same horrific death as Freddie. His family suggested that Prenter sold his story to cover the cost of AIDS medication. Hell, even Freddie was worried that he would run out of money for his own treatment and he was a multi-millionaire. (Source for this: David Evans)
> 
> I have edited this because I had my boyfriends wrong. Joe Fanelli was Freddie's partner in 1979. Joe broke off the relationship that year. Eventually they became dear friends and Joe worked for Fred as his chef, was his confidant and helped nurse Fred until his death, even though Joe himself also had AIDS. He passed away a few months after Freddie. I do not know if he accompanied Freddie on this part of the tour, but for the purposes of the story he didn't.
> 
> Freddie famously hated being alone and also refused to dwell on the past, only looking forward.
> 
> The moon landing took place on 20th July, 1969. Brian has said that he watched it with Roger on a tiny black and white telly at Roger's mum's Cornwall house. He's never definitively said that Freddie wasn't there as well. (Hint, hint.) Given that he released a book to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the moon landing, I can't imagine that he let the 10th anniversary pass without comment.
> 
> Please ask if anything else needs explanation. I know far too much about Queen and am happy to recommend resources, should you also wish to annoy your family and friends with an anecdote for ever occasion.
> 
> And his name was Kevin.


End file.
